


And ever I wish to dream

by Maewn



Series: Lovaas do Vulon Ahrk Peyt [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Gen, children being curious little shits, the oneshot no one asked for but is getting anyway, the why is my child waking me up at 5 in the morning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 03:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6938455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maewn/pseuds/Maewn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What does a child do when they have a question? Ask their parents of course, and if it happens to be 5 in the morning, well, too bad.</p><p>The Dovahkiin and his wife find this out the hard way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And ever I wish to dream

**Author's Note:**

> The words that Erissa uses for her parents in place of the traditional trade (common) tongue (in this case, Mama and Papa) are from the Dunmer language (Alma and Ata respectively).

“Alma?”

She opens her eyes to find her youngest daughter beside her. Dawn is breaking, light filtering through the curtains to illuminate the five-year old’s face.

“What is it?” she asks groggily.

“Why are there two moons?” Erissa asks, golden eyes wide and curious.

She blinks. “…What?”

“Why are there _two_ moons?” Erissa repeats.

She sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It is way, _way_ too early for this. Her husband stirs, opening dazed eyes. “Ilymnari?” he questions, her name a low and quiet murmur.

Erissa sees an opportunity and pounces. Since Alma isn’t answering, Ata surely will.

“Ata!” she demands, crawling between her parents, her short blonde hair sticking up in spikes.

“Erissa,” he says, “What is it?”

“Alma won’t tell me why there are two moons!”

“It’s early, _hla foyada_ ,” he says, one arm draped over his eyes, blocking out any light. “Alma is tired and no doubt wants to go back to sleep. As do I.”

“But Ata!” Erissa whines.

He sighs, patting the bed, gesturing for her to lie down. Ilymnari lays back as well, folding one arm beneath her head, facing her husband.

“If I tell you why there are two moons, will you go back to sleep? You can stay up here until we have to get up,” her husband says, addressing their daughter as he shifts, one arm curling under his pillow while the other remains held close to his chest.

Erissa nods enthusiastically, curling up next to her father, her back to her mother.

“When the world was made by the gods, one god, the Trickster Lorkhan, was split apart and two of the pieces of his body became the moons, Secunda and Masser. The others were destroyed or hidden away, as they contained great and terrible power,” her father says, his eyes mere slits in his angular face.

“Ewww, the moons are dead parts?!” Erissa says.

Her father chuckles. “Yes, hla foyada, dead god parts. Now will you go back to sleep?”

“Yes,” Erissa says, though there is an odd tone to her answer that makes Ilymnari suspicious.

There is quiet silence for a time and Ilymnari has almost drifted back to sleep when…

“So why doesn’t the moon look like actual body parts?” Erissa asks.

Ilymnari sighs. “You know I’m blaming you for the overly curious nature of our children,” she says pointedly at her husband.

“Me?” he says, voice slightly muffled as he buries his face in his pillow. “Why not your side of the family? Auri-el _knows_ how bad your brothers are.”

“But they’re not _your_ levels of curious. The ‘let’s poke this and see what happens despite the great amount of warnings against doing so’ kind of curiosity,” Ilymnari says.

“It was for investigative purposes,” he protests, turning to look at her.

“Ata,” Erissa says, ignoring the discussion occurring over her head, and poking his shoulder. “Answer my question!”

Her father levels an unimpressed stare at his daughter. “I don’t believe I heard a please in there.”

“Pleeease answer my question,” Erissa says, dragging out the word. She pouts.

“The moons look the way they do, dear _hla julikal_ , because that is how we see them. We cannot perceive their true form as we are not divine. Besides, I rather doubt gods have the same body parts as men or mer,” her father says.

“Hmmm,” Erissa muses over that for a few moments. Outside, the temple bells have begun to ring, calling people to begin their day.

“But if I were a god, could _I_ see the real moons?” Erissa asks.

Her father is very still and quiet. “You wouldn’t want to see that, Erissa. Death is hard enough to give and harder still to watch.” He sits up, one hand rubbing at the pale scarring on his right wrist. His eyes are distant as he continues, “Godhood is burden I would not wish upon anyone.”

Erissa frowns. “But- “she pauses, staring at her father.

Ilymnari slides one arm around her daughter, pulling the girl towards her.

“Alma?” Erissa asks, looking up. Her mother merely brushes a few wayward tufts of hair flat.

“I think that’s enough questions for the morning, Erissa,” she says. “You should go get dressed.”

“Do I have to?” Erissa whines.

“Yes,” her mother replies, giving her a light push. “Go on. We’ll be down in a couple minutes.”

Erissa heaves a sigh, but moves off the bed. She taps her father’s arm as she does.

“Hug?” she offers.

Her father smiles, eyes softening as he looks at her.

He embraces her, pressing a kiss to her temple before releasing her.

“Last one downstairs has to do dishes!” Erissa says, darting away. The door clicks shut behind her.

Ilymnari turns her attention to her husband, placing her hand over the rough, pale scars etched into his wrist, physical memories from a time long before her birth.

“Do you need a few minutes?” she asks.

“Perhaps,” he says, lying back and closing his eyes. She follows him, resting her head against his shoulder. “Immortality is a heavy burden no matter one’s soul. I’ve seen the perils of living too long.”

“They will outlive us,” she says quietly, the knowledge knife-sharp in her heart.

“Yes,” he replies, “Even a Dovahkiin is not immune to the effects of time. I am still mortal.”

“As are we all,” she says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. He smiles.

“We should probably make sure Erissa isn’t causing a mess in the kitchen,” he says after a moment, flicking his eyes toward the door.

Ilymnari smirks. “I’m sure she’ll be fine for a little while longer.”

He grins, a beautifully wicked smile that made her breath catch.

“Besides,” Ilymnari says, her left hand threading through his pale blonde hair, “You don’t have to be anywhere for a few hours.”

“I do love the way you think,” he says, tilting his head to kiss her again. 

Ilymnari laughs quietly against his lips and pulls him closer.


End file.
